Weakness
by BadWolfTM
Summary: She told him that suicide is for the weak, and she isn’t weak. Rated T for mentions of suicide and self harm. Based on the Netflix series.


"Suicide is for the weak."

That's what she told him. Suicide was for the weak, and Skye Miller was strong.

Wasn't she?

She thought she was. Desperately hoped she was. But the truth is, she wasn't so sure about that. After all, if she was so strong, why did she have to cut herself just to feel alive?

And it had been getting worse since Hannah Baker killed herself. Skye saw how everyone acted devastated, how so many students would end up in tears. Interesting - only a couple of weeks before, most of them hadn't even spared Hannah a passing glance. Who knew she had so many _friends?_

Sarcasm, of course. None of them really cared. The school didn't care. She would end up as just another number, a statistic, an example. It was made very clear what happened around here if you were struggling in any way. And to say the least, Skye was struggling.

She had been struggling for about three years now, and she was handling it in her own way. But could cutting herself really be counted as handling it?

It seemed as if things might be finally changing, though. Clay had actually been paying a bit of attention to her lately, though it hadn't been all good. He was clearly working through his own problems, which she didn't doubt were Hannah-related. She hated to admit that she felt a bit jealous. Jealous and... guilty. Like she was partially responsible for what happened. Maybe it was selfish to feel that way. It was definitely selfish to be jealous that Clay cared so much for Hannah. But Skye felt like maybe she could've done something - that anonymous note in the class discussion bag? There was no doubt in her mind now that Hannah was the one who wrote it, especially when pairing it with her making a scene in the hall because of Zach. And yet she had done nothing.

When news spread of Hannah's death, Skye felt... odd. Something cold settled in the pit of her stomach the moment she heard. The same feeling that she had now.

She heard snippets of conversations through the halls, mumbles she barely listened to as it is, speaking of the lawsuit. She knew it was happening, but had never paid much attention. Even so, she couldn't deny that tensions were rising.

Now, things were changing. Clay asked to hang out, and they took a drive with Tony and Brad, just trying to get their minds off of everything; even if it was only for a little while. But in the back of that mustang, Skye's problems still occupied her mind. She found herself thinking more and more about what happened to Hannah.

She kept thinking about what would happen if she died too. Would anyone care? It's not as if she had friends anymore, and she couldn't let herself think that just because Clay wanted to hang out with her this one time they were friends again. If she got her hopes up, she knew they'd just be crushed again. And she didn't know how much more she could take.

Clay knew what she did to herself now. He saw, just the other night, the ugly scars marring her wrists. He knew. But could she confide in him? Would he think that Skye was just seeking attention if she admitted to having suicidal thoughts too?

"Skye." His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see him watching her. Maybe it was just her being a bit too hopeful, but she thought she could see concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" The question was soft, loud enough for only the two of them to hear - but Tony and Brad didn't seem to notice, wrapped up in their own conversation just out of earshot. They had stopped by the side of the road, and were looking out across the city, Skye and Clay by the fence and Tony and Brad leaning back against the car.

Skye hesitated at his question, her usual "I'm fine" at the tip of her tongue. His brows knit together at her hesitation, a frown turning down the corners of his lips.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't do this anymore. "...No. I'm not." It took more effort than she expected to keep her voice from breaking. Her gaze drifted out across the city before reluctantly returning to Clay. "I'm weak," she said quietly. "Is that okay?"

His eyes widened slightly at her words, his mind no doubt going back to their argument at Monet's. It was his turn to hesitate for a few seconds before nodding. "Yeah. You don't have to be strong all the time." Clay fidgeted, almost nervously, before turning and wrapping his arms around Skye.

She didn't even realize she needed this until her own arms snaked around him. She wasn't alone, and for the moment, she allowed herself to feel hopeful.


End file.
